


there will be blood

by orphan_account



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Crossover, F/F, Forgive Me, Gore and other shit abound probably, Lemon Tea, Lots of shit about to go down, Not saying who but, Overwatch - Freeform, People are going to die, and frog-rabbit, i guess, only old Overwatch here, or whatever the hell Lucio and D.Va's ship name is, sorry junkers, the squeamish have been warned, there will be blood - Freeform, you'll see - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-31
Updated: 2018-01-30
Packaged: 2018-12-09 03:38:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11660844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: When Lena "Tracer" Oxton and Emily Shaw are kidnapped by an unknown figure, both Overwatch and Talon embark on a hunt for the person responsible. But the line between fiction and reality blurs when the kidnapper's identity is finally revealed. Now, Lena and Emily must fight for their lives at the hands of a psychotic madman as both friend and foe come together in a race against time to stop him.Let the game begin.





	1. introducing the players

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RadicalEdward13 (PieZer0)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PieZer0/gifts).



> This is a crossover piece, although I'm not telling what that crossover is specifically.
> 
> Have fun!
> 
> -THFG

Here it was. The most important choice. A choice that could change the course of the week... forever. Lena Oxton, codename “Tracer”, stood before the wall filled with brightly labeled spaghetti sauces and froze as her mind turned over and over like a car that wouldn’t start.

_ Does Em like Ragu or Prego? I can’t bloody remember! _

She stood in front of the display for what felt like an eternity before it clicked.

_ Prego! That’s right! We used it the last time we made spaghetti, and we… oh… ooh.... _

A mental image flashed through her head, one of Emily stark naked, spaghetti and Prego smeared all over her breasts, Lena on top, nibbling on the noodles. Lena’s face turned as red as the sauce she was looking at.

_ I forgot THAT happened... And the mess it made too… God the weirdest shit Em does when she’s horny... _

This put a smile on her face as she replayed the memory. Finally she picked up the largest jar of Prego and placed in her basket. The pocket of her bomber jacket vibrated gently. She pulled out her phone, clicked the unlock button, and opened it. One new message from Em:

Call me. Urgent!

Lena frowned. This wasn’t very Em-like. Usually she just went ahead and called. Lena didn’t think too much about though. She tapped a few buttons and raised the phone to her ear. It clicked.

“‘Ello? Em?”

Nothing.

“Emily?”

Nothing still. Then, a breath.

“Lena…” She could heard the dread in her girlfriend’s voice, thick and heavy like a sledgehammer waiting to fall.

“What?”

“There’s someone here. In the apartment.”

The blood in Lena’s veins froze solid. Already she set down whatever groceries she had collected, spaghetti night completely forgotten, and was running for the Londis exit. Other shoppers shot her glances, but shrugged and went about their business. It was Tracer, anyways, and probably nothing for them to be concerned about.

The apartment was five minutes away from the supermarket, thank God. It was one perk of living near King’s Row. The cloudy English evening rose to her meet as she stepped out of the Londis. Lena blinked in and out of foot traffic as she kept the line to Emily open.

“Where are you?”

“Under the bed… I think he’s coming in…  Oh God.”

“Em, don’t move, I’m heading right for yo-”

A blood-curdling scream pierced through the phone.

“NO! NO! LET GO!” Lena stopped dead in her tracks.

“Em? Emily?” Panic bubbled in her chest. Over the phone she could hear a faint hissing noise. The hissing cut out to a man’s raspy voice.

“There is a shadow hanging over you, Lena Oxton.”

“Who are you? What do you want?

_ Click _

The phone went silent. Lena stared at it in disbelief, chest heaving. Suddenly, she remembered the words of the now-deceased Mondatta:  _ Focus, and the world is yours. _ Lena took off yet again, blinking until she reached the doors to her apartment building. She burst through the doors, earning more strange looks from other people. The elevator was always super slow and inconvenient,so she bounded up the stairs, taking them three at a time. Lena reached her floor and full-out sprinted until she stopped in front of her door.

Lena reached into her bomber jacket with her right hand and withdrew one of her pistols. She placed the left hand on the doorknob and jiggled the knob. Locked. The irony of being locked out of her own apartment was not lost. Her left hand retreated into the bomber jacket, shaking, and pulled out the key ring. She found the apartment key, slammed it with all of her might into the lock, and turned it. It wouldn’t budge. 

_ The other way, the other way! _

She twisted the other way. The door clicked open. Lena pushed it open to be greeted with a horrid sight. The usually bright apartment was pitch black, drapes pulled across the windows. In the middle of the living room was Emily, sprawled out on the floor. Lena took two steps forward, pivoting in all directions, searching for the intruder. She stood over Emily, and knelt down. She placed a hand over her neck. There was a pulse, steady and strong.

Without warning, the door slammed shut. On instinct Lena spun around and fired three shots into the door. From behind her in the shadows came the sound of… a pig snorting?

She turned to face Emily’s attacker right as a dark shadow rushed towards her. It was a man in a black robe wearing a pig’s head. Before she could fire off a shot, the pig man tackled her, knocking her to the floor.

Instantly, something slammed over her face. It began to softly hiss, the same noise she heard over the phone. A sickly sweet odor flooded her senses. She struggled, but the gas had already flooded her lungs enough to do its work. The white world began to fade in and out as the gas overtook her.

The man in the pig mask removed the mask from the agent’s face and stepped back to inspect his handiwork. These two were just the beginning of it. Soon, they would all pay of their sins. And yes, there would be blood. But first, there were some… preparations to attend to. The man in the pig mask stacked the two women on top of each other and pulled a laundry cart from out of the shadows. Tenderly, he transferred them into the cart. He removed his mask and placed in the cart as well. Finally, he lay a towel over the top of it. The man flipped the hood of his robe down and began to push the cart out of the apartment complex. Down the elevator and out to the rear, where a white van was waiting. The man loaded the laundry cart into the back, and shut the doors. He entered the driver’s side and fired up the vehicle with a diesel roar. The van pulled out of the parking lot and merged with the endless flow of London traffic, another driver headed nowhere important.

* * *

Back and forth and back and forth and back and forth and back and forth

He couldn’t stop pacing. Worriment was eating away at him like some sort of parasite that he couldn’t shake loose. Probable reasons for why Lena hadn’t picked up the communicator raced through his head at light-speed. He hoped with all of his heart that she had just forgotten about it, she was at the movies with Emily. But his head knew better. It had been fifteen minutes since Winston had last called, and still there was no answer. During the whole process, he had toyed with the idea of putting out the Code Black. And now that both of the women weren’t responding to anything, it looked as though Code Black was the way to go.

Code Black. In the handbook of emergency calls, Code Black was the most drastic (outside of Recall, of course, but that was its own category.) A Code Black meant an agent in trouble, and it sent out an alert to everybody else with a notification about the missing agent.

It was a bit ironic, really. Right as the core of Overwatch came back together, the one person who was the driving force behind its return just so happened to vanish. In his mind, Winston currently held Talon responsible, if Lena and Emily were legitimately missing. Who else wanted the organization dismantled and destroyed? (This was excluding the United Nations and the whole Petras Act, but he knew the UN wouldn’t go that far and kidnap people.)  

“Winston?” Athena, a tinge of worriment in her voice, piped up from the computer console, breaking him out of his thoughts.

“Yes?” he replied.

“I called Ms. Shaw’s phone, as well as Agent Tracer’s communicator again.”

“And?”

“They did not answer.”

Winston slumped, deep in contemplation.

“I can send out the Code Black as soon as you give the word” Athena said. Winston looked over at his computer screen. He knew Ana and Fareeha were both on vacation in Numbani for “mother-daughter time”, since it turned out that the legendary Captain Amari wasn’t dead. Or Jack, for that matter. Currently he was with Angela, Jesse, and Reinhardt, all traveling back from Dorado after investigating rumors of Talon operations. They all had discovered that Talon was behind the expose of LumeriCo that tore the company apart. There was no sign of the shadowy figure who attacked Winston or had taken part in the Numbani heist, but the team had encountered a feisty Hispanic woman who went by the online handle “Sombra.” That was all of the information Jack had given him, promising a fully fleshed-out debrief when they returned.

“Do it, Athena. Send it out.”

“Right away. Initiating Code Black status” The computer frantically beeped as the message was sent to all active members of Overwatch. The Shimadas were still in Japan, dealing with family issues. Gabriel was dead (although at this point Winston wouldn’t put it past if he were alive, considering Ana and Jack came back from the dead.) Torbjorn was dealing with personal issues, at least, that’s what he told Winston. Everybody else was still underground, afraid of stepping out of the shadows.

Winston felt slightly guilty for calling the Amaris off their much-deserved vacation, but he deemed it necessary in light of what had happened.

It would take some time for them to arrive, so Winston went about the Gibraltar base, tidying up with Athena’s help, picking up empty peanut butter jars and organizing the monstrous stacks of notes. Recently, Winston had been working on a way for the group to communicate better. The communicators everybody currently had were way too bulky and inefficient, not to mention incredibly prone to hacking. Winston had the idea of just switching to a private cell phone service, but that would require Overwatch to get a satellite, and as hyper-intelligent as Winston was, he didn’t know the first darn thing about satellite building. And there wasn’t exactly a “Satellite Building For Dummies” manual out there.

All around the world, Overwatch agents looked down at their communicators to see the following message.

 

FROM WINSTON

CODE BLACK

AGENT TRACER COMPROMISED

ALL AGENTS RETURN IMMEDIATELY

 

In a tiny tea shop in Numbani, Fareeha “Pharah” Amari heard her mother let a few choice curse words while looking at her communicator over a cup of Earl Grey.

“I knew this wouldn’t last long” she said with a slight groan. Fareeha looked down at her own communicator and read Winston’s message.

“We’re going back, aren’t we?” she asked her mother.

A sigh. “I suppose. It is Lena we’re talking about, and I do love that cheeky little girl” She carefully sipped the last of her Earl Grey, then stood up. Fareeha followed suit as the two Egyptian women headed back to the hotel to pack their things for Gibraltar. Ana was already trying to contact the airport for tickets back to Gibraltar.

* * *

On the other side of the world, in a top-secret, undisclosed place (a tiny apartment overlooking Los Angeles, currently owned by one Gabriel Reyes), a tiny red light turned on in front of Amelie Lacroix’s face. She was sitting in the living room, cleaning her EBR-9000 sniper rifle when the darkness known as Gabriel Reyes stepped front of her. She paused, but did not look up.

“What is the matter?” she asked, inspecting her weapon of choice.

“Sombra just intercepted a message sent to all Overwatch agents. It appears that Tracer has been… compromised.”

She finally looked up from her rifle, the very slightest hint of concern written on the lines of her face. “Did you do something to her, Gabriel?”

His face betrayed no such emotion. “No. And if I did, I would’ve told you about it beforehand. This is something entirely else.”

“Compromised? Blown cover, perhaps?”

“No. Her identity is very much public knowledge. I’m fairly certain she has a social media account.”

“She does” rang out a voice from the darkness. Both Amelie and Gabriel spun around to see the one and only Sombra slink out of the shadows. “I follow her on Twitter. She tweets some pretty funny stuff.” Gabriel, in typical fashion, completely ignored her and began to talk business.

“Any ideas on what “compromised” means?”

“I’ve seen enough action vids to know that compromised usually means captured.” She looked directly at Amelie. “Once you’ve seen Black Hawk Down 168 times, it really makes you wanna learn military strategy, something telenovelas don’t exactly inspire.”

“Any ideas on our next move?” Gabriel asked.

“I’ll keep tabs on Overwatch, let you know if anything major pops up.” She receded back into the shadows of the kitchen, looking for any leftover Chinese. Gabriel turned to Amelie.

“And what about you?”

She focused on cleaning her rifle again. “I will act upon any information provided. I’m sure finding her will help us bring down Overwatch, somehow.” Gabriel nodded and returned to... whatever that creepy motherfucker did in his spare time. Probably writing “dark” and “edgy” poetry. Amelie suppressed a snort. Talon believed that it had destroyed all traces of her emotion. They were wrong. It only seemed to affect her compassion and happiness. She could feel just about everything else, except for the good stuff.

Which probably explain the slight feeling of worriment gnawing away at her. She knew that Le-...  _ Tracer  _ wasn’t somebody who was easily captured, so whoever did this…

Whoever did this could be dangerous to all of them.

 


	2. opening moves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lena awakes to find herself in hell...

Pain. Shooting throughout her jaw. It beat away inside her mouth to the point that it forced her to stir from her sleep. Her eyes fluttered about as she began to wake up, the pain becoming more and more relevant. The world was dark, ungodly dark. She could see nothing. And then, a burst of light, blinding her.

_ Am I dying? _

The light receded until it was dull ordinary glow. And that was when Lena felt the device on her head. Part of it had been placed in her mouth as well, effectively gagging her. The pain grew sharper. She tried to move her arms and legs, but they wouldn’t budge. Lena looked down to see that someone had strapped her into a plain wooden chair. She twisted slightly in the chair to look around. She couldn’t tell where she was, but judging from the amount of grime and rust that covered the walls it couldn’t have been good. To her right, a boxy TV flickered to life. The sudden sharp crackle of static scared her, as she turned to face the TV. 

What she saw next would haunt her for the rest of her life. A… clown-like puppet turned towards the camera. Tufts of hair flowed down the back of his painted head. Two blood-red swirls adorned his cheeks. He wore a crisply-pressed tuxedo and stare straight into Lena’s eyes with his own black and red orbs.

“Hello Lena” it rasped. Lena stared at the TV, transfixed on the talking puppet. It continued. “You don’t know me, but I know you. I want to play a game. Here are the rules. For years, you and the organization that you work for have tried to save the world. And yet while you and your compatriots claim that you help the people, you in fact harm them the most.” The camera shifted to show pictures of burning buildings and streets filled with rubble. Lena recognized it as Numbani. “In your fight for a higher cause, you crush the innocent people who lay on the ground.” The camera switched back to the puppet. “It will end today. The device you are wearing is stuck in between your jaws. When the timer on the back reaches 60 seconds, it will pry your mouth open. Think of it like… a reverse bear trap. The key to freeing yourself from the device is in the stomach of your dead cellmate.” As he spoke, a single light turned on overhead, illuminating a man’s body beneath it.

“Will you cut past flesh and bone to save yourself, or do you lack the survival instincts needed?” The puppet leveled its eyes directly at her. “Live or die, Lena. Make your choice.” The TV cut out into static. Instantaneously, the cuffs holding her to the chair fell away. She bolted out of her chair towards the dead man.

_ CLINK _

_ tickticktickticktickticktick _

A pin attached to the back of the trap was yanked away. Lena reached behind her to touch the padlock that locked the trap in place, and heard a ticking noise. Her eyes grew wide in terror.

_ 60 seconds, that’s it said, right?  _ She stumbled over to the dead man. A large kitchen knife lay beside him. Lena took the knife in hand. The metallic coldness of the handle bit into her palm. She hovered over the dead man, knife poised to strike.

_ This is for Em. Whoever you are, I’m so sorry. _

She swung the knife downwards, arc flashing silver. It sunk into the dead man’s stomach with a sickening thud. Blood splashed up her arm with a dull warmth. She pulled it out and stabbed him again. And again. And again. She swung the knife and this time it bounced off something hard. Lena plunged her free hand into the dead man’s intestines and closed it around a  metal-

_ The key! _

She pulled her hand out of the dead man’s stomach, dropped the knife, and started fumbling with the padlock.

_ ticktickticktickticktickticktick _

With bloody, slippery hands, Lena shoved the key into the padlock and turned. The padlock clicked. She removed the padlock and pulled the bear trap out of her mouth. Sparks of pain blasted her jaw. Lena swore she saw stars. She gripped the device in both hands and slammed it onto the floor with a clang.

_ tickticktickticktickDING _

The bear trap snapped open on the floor. Lena stared at it briefly. Her knees gave out as she collapsed onto the floor, panting from the sudden surge of adrenaline coursing in her veins. The TV crackled to life again, and the same puppet from earlier appeared.

“Congratulations. You have survived. But the game is not over just yet. Yours sins are more than flesh deep. The trials and tribulations have just begun.”

Do you have a reason to live, Lena? Something worth fighting for besides the world? I believe I know the answer to this.” The TV changed again, and a ray of pure terror shot through her stomach. It was a security recording of Emily, encased in a large glass tube, unmoving. The puppet’s voice echoed all around her. “The love of your life, correct? You fight for her?” Lena  could only nod. She felt her eyes grow wet with tears.

“I have the power to take her from you, as you took away the lives of the people you supposedly saved. You have one hour to navigate through your test or she will drown. The clock begins now, Lena. Can you find the strength to save her? Or you watch her die in front of you? The choice is yours.” The TV screen crackled into static. A metal door swung open off to the right side of the room. Lena gingerly stood up and faced the door.

_ I’m coming Em. Hold on. _


End file.
